


coffee

by pacoca



Category: Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-19
Updated: 2018-09-19
Packaged: 2019-07-14 06:28:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16034882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pacoca/pseuds/pacoca
Summary: Miranda shares coffee with Shepard.





	coffee

She makes her coffee from beans. It was a habit that never truly left her.

She liked the way the beans churned and turned into fine dust under the grinder. The soothing aroma that comes after as the coffee bubbles up from the spout. Then afterwards, the strong, acrid smell of something like wood or dark chocolate as she finally pours the contents of the moka pot onto the cup.

Perfect, and controlled.

‘What are you doing?’

Her hands come suddenly, sliding smoothly across her waist and pulling her close. Her chin rests on her shoulder, lips hot and warm against her neck. Miranda shudders briefly. She’s never been ticklish.

‘Coffee.’ She replies. She pulls a cup towards her, holding it by the plate just in case. ‘Want a taste?’

‘I know something else I’d like to taste.’ Shepard’s lips curl into a smirk, voice husk and hot behind her. She feels her lips playing on her earlobe, tongue nipping at the shell of her ear.

The coffee feels hot.

‘Really, Shepard?’ Miranda manages to say. She could feel Shepard’s fingers wandering down. Miranda stills, her breath caught in her throat.

The coffee is so very hot indeed.

Miranda stifles a groan and turns her head towards her, voice dropping menacingly low, ‘I’d rather you sit your arse down on the dining and stop wasting this damn, good coffee I made for you.’

Miranda hears a quiet chuckle, then regretfully, feels her fingers slip away from her waist, taking all the warmth of her body with her. She watches her back as she disappeared behind the counter. At the corner of her eye, she could see the sinuous lines of her muscles dancing, almost temptingly, underneath the thin fabric of her singlet.

‘Pronto, Commander.’ She calls out, relishing the slight curl at the corner of Shepard’s lips as Shepard slides on one of the stools closest to her. 

‘And don’t think I’d let that _‘taste’_ comment slide.’ Miranda stirs a spoonful of sugar on her cup, grinning, ‘That was atrocious.’

‘I was hoping you won’t.’ There’s a cockiness on her tone that made Miranda want to tear her head off. She stretches then runs her fingers down the back of her hair, and Miranda is reminded once again of how infuriatingly thin the fabric of that singlet is.

Maybe she’s going to have to do something about that.

For now, the coffee.

‘Mmmm.’ Shepard seems to breathe it in, like she was trying to determine the taste just from its smell. It was silly. Miranda watched as the bridge of her nose crinkled in delight. Shepard took a tentative sip and somehow, the woman looked even sillier than before.

Miranda tried her best to stifle a smile.

‘I don’t know much about good coffee, but I have to say Miss Lawson, this is something else.’ Shepard took another sip, eyes closed and content. The coffee was still very warm. Miranda felt a snug heat pooling in her stomach as she drank.

‘Of course. I make good coffee.’ Miranda replied, confident behind her cup.

Then Shepard smiled from her eyelashes and Miranda could feel her legs start to quiver underneath her. It was the way her lips curl at the sides, so sincere and obliviously endearing, just like she always is when she touches her. She leaned for support on the counter before she could notice. Shepard was already cocky enough as it is.

‘I needed this.’ The woman sighed into her cup. ‘All of this. I really did.’ She watched her tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, hair dishevelled and shoulders finally slack after weeks. They both knew the odds, but the war took its toll hard on Shepard. It did for all of them.

Miranda reached out and slowly traced a finger across her lip. She felt a trail of moisture from the coffee, and her lips, soft and pliant and so very _tempting_ , parted only slightly before Miranda leaned down and stole a kiss. She smelt sweet. When she pressed her tongue inside, she tasted like the perfect brew of her morning coffee.

Shepard’s eyes fluttered close as she sank further into her. Cocky indeed.

‘I needed _you_.’ Miranda said simply. She traced her fingers down her chin and leaned down further, ‘Just you.’

Beside them, the coffee grows cold.


End file.
